"This is something I bought a few months ago, and I took it out of the vault to have a photograph made of it. I am not quite sure that it is worth a lot of money, but I think it is. Here we are."
The Colonel unfolded a piece of silk and placed the treasure on it.
"A fan!" exclaimed Bet. "Oh, Daddy, what a beauty!" She held out her hand as if to take it, then hesitated. It seemed too pretty to touch.
The sticks and guards of the fan were of ivory, elaborately carved and pierced. The raised figures and designs were gilded. The mount of the fan was of parchment, painted with a scene of the Luxembourg gardens in which a fête was taking place. Young lovers in the dim sunlight under the trees, paid court to their ladies. There was flirting and teasing and romping play. Though gaiety and frivolity were expressed yet there was a certain wistfulness as well, a little heart-throb of haunting regret.
"It seems as if the artist had told a whole story in that tiny picture," said Kit quietly.
"That's it, exactly," exclaimed Colonel Baxter, bestowing a smile on Kit. This young girl had caught the idea of the painting at a glance.
"How can you tell whether it is valuable or not?" asked Shirley.
"We know it is worth a lot of money, for Watteau, a famous painter of the 18th Century did this work. But there is another detail to be decided before we can say how valuable it is."
The four girls, sensing a romance, looked on with interest and pleasure. Colonel Baxter fingered the fan with the touch of one who loved beautiful things. His hand caressed the carved ivory.
"Whose was it, Dad?" begged Bet. "It couldn't have been an ordinary person's fan."